And giving a wave, she slipped out of the room before anyone could argue. Martha also returned to her work, leaving Léo and Juliet to nurse the little scrap, while Moriarty bustled around their legs.
‘I think he wishes he could help too,’ said Juliet, patting his head.
‘Yes, your family is very kind,’ said Léo, ‘even your dog. Come, let us find a comfortable place to put Ava’s box, and I will make coffee. These first few hours will be the most important.’
Juliet carried the box through to the small, cosy library which got little use, as the family generally preferred gathering in the large sitting room. She switched on the heat lamp and settled herself into the sofa to wait for Léo to come in with the coffee, thinking how dramatically and unexpectedly her life had changed in just a few weeks, but how comfortable she felt with that. Maybe – just maybe – she had changed, too, and was ready to leave the past firmly behind her and look to her own future.
Léo brought in the coffee and some biscuits he had found, checked on little Ava and then joined Juliet on the sofa.
‘She seems comfortable,’ he said. ‘We just have time to drink this before her next feed is due. She is lucky to be nursed in such lovely surroundings.’
‘This is probably my favourite room in the whole house,’ said Juliet, looking around her at the deep green walls, lined with mahogany bookcases. ‘Nobody ever comes in here much, other than me. I loved it when I was a teenager. I used to sit at the desk to do my homework and imagine it was four hundred years ago.’
‘Why did the rest of your family not like this room?’
‘Martha likes more of a view – I think it makes her feel claustrophobic with its tiny window. Frankie is far too big for a small, quiet room like this. And my parents – I don’t know. They liked to be on show rather than tucked away here, amongst the books. I was always glad, I thought of it asmyroom.’
‘Have you ever read any of the books?’
‘Some of them. There are copies of Dickens and Austen, and some hilarious housewives’ compendiums from the 1920s, all about how to mend your husband’s shirts and dress “daintily” to do the cleaning.’
‘Advice you have taken seriously, I hope?’ said Léo teasingly.
‘Ha ha,’ replied Juliet, sticking her tongue out at him. ‘I’m just glad this is one of the few parts of the house that hasn’t deteriorated too badly; it would be such a shame to lose these books.’
‘Talking of books,’ said Léo, peeping in at Ava for the thousandth time, ‘there is something else I wanted to discuss with you.’
She dunked a biscuit in her coffee.
‘What’s that?’
‘I told you all previously about the cookery book I am writing, and how I wanted your contributions – you said you would give me some cocktail recipes.’
Juliet laughed.
‘So I did! Do you need them?’
‘Well, there is no hurry for those, and I may not need them at all, as Sylvia and I have decided to expand the focus of the book from simply recipes. Now it will also include sections based around the items one can easily cultivate in a garden, and which are enjoyable to do. Not so much your potatoes and carrots, which can be hard work digging, but more herbs and edible flowers. There would also be a strong emphasis on sourcing locally produced food, with a guide on what to look for, depending on where you live. I want recipes people can adapt, depending on what is available to them – so if you live in Dorset, you can use Blue Vinney cheese; if you live in Derbyshire, you will choose Stilton.’
Juliet stroked Ava, sleeping under the heat lamp.
‘That sounds like a great idea.’
‘Thank you. We were also wondering if you would take the photographs for the book, and perhaps do some illustrations as well – of the flowers, maybe?’
Juliet looked up at Léo in delighted surprise.
‘I would love to!’
‘You are sure you’re not too busy?’
‘I am busy, but this sounds like a wonderful project. And…’ she said with a shy smile, ‘I’d love to work on it together.’
‘Bon, then it is decided. Maybe once little Ava is thriving, we can start pulling some ideas together.’
‘I’d like that. And speaking of Ava, I think I’d better go and prepare her milk.’
She was back shortly and soon cradling the puppy and speaking softly to her as she encouraged her to drink. Léo watched her, his heart full, and wondered if maybe at the end of the book he would include a section on romantic meals for two – or maybe even wedding breakfasts. Although, at this moment, he never wanted to leave the cosy room where the three of them were so content together.
